


Naught else abides on this fickle earth but unkept promises of joy

by Kageriah



Series: Lock and Key [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: But at the same time NOPE, Gen, I really know what I'm doing, Imagination, Infinity Gems, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki REALLY Does What He Wants, Magical Artifacts, OCs will abound, Post Phase 1, Really AU, no really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-16 04:25:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1331836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kageriah/pseuds/Kageriah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was his plan, his way of one upping the universe. He would show them all what he really was, who he really was. Because it wasn't his heritage that made him who he was. It was his actions that defined him. And who was he? </p><p>He was Loki.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Forge

**Author's Note:**

> Way AU - Shameless amalgamation of the comics, movies, Norse mythology, and my own imagination. Follows MCU until T:tDW, where it diverges. Also, Odin doesn't die, as several of the people behind T:tDW have stated.  
> The title quote is by Herman Melville.

 

 

_His mother was a beautiful lady, with hair like the sun’s rays and eyes as blue as the sky. She was happy and lovely, never taking life for granted and living every day to the fullest._

_His father was a short, muscular man who looked like a dwarf, even though he was anything but. He was jovial and hard working, just like Hero’s mother._

_Hero couldn’t be happier with his life._

_But one day, when he came home from the village, when he opened the door to his house, his life came to an abrupt hault. The little home they had built was ransacked. He padded inside, but stopped as soon as he saw what lay ahead of him._

_Two bodies sprawled on the floor in front of him, eyes closed as though they were asleep. He called for them, but it was useless. They were dead. He fell to the ground, screamed and didn’t stop until he was found an hour later. He would find later that the already destroyed house had been ripped apart in his fit._

_This was the end of his life._

 

* * *

 

It was something new that came through the Tesseract’s portal. Something birthed in agony, raised through torture. It was a sword, forged in fire to be wielded by a master bent on destruction, unable to assume its previous form again. It was sharp, and it was cruel. But it was also treacherous, a double-edged blade ready to cut his keeper at the slightest slip.

His will was strong, strong enough to withstand even the harshest of trials; he did not break in the hands of Thanos. He bared the conditioning, biding his time and seizing an opportunity by feigning submission. And they believed him. For all their strength, all their insight, they still couldn’t see through his facade.

Oh, never doubt that he was angry. He was furious and broken and alone and afraid... and _betrayed._ The people who claimed to love him unconditionally hadn’t even sought him out. They had left him to rot at the hands of his captor, and his “father” had shown his true feelings for his “son” - and that was it; there were none. But he would show the man exactly what he had given up when he refused his son. He would conquer the greatest threat to the realms and ultimately reign over the fake father’s head just how wrong he was. The anger he felt for the bastard who “raised” him would assist him on his mission.

And so it began. The war on Midgard was only the beginning - a prelude to an epic. It was a trick played so well that none saw the truth. The veracity that eluded them was obvious to him. He didn’t understand why it was so hard to grasp.

It did not matter, though. It was time. Time to go back to Asgard, time to face his deeds.

He smirked - or tried to underneath the muzzle. He would be safe in Asgard, even in a prison. Thanos had not yet gained the power to invade such a realm and the trickster was glad for it. The Chitauri couldn’t capture him, and they couldn’t make him _long for something as sweet as pain_.

He grasped the handle of the contraption meant to bring them home and prepared himself. It was now that his mettle would be tested. Could he face the Allfather again, after all that had been said and done? Could he stand to be in the same room as the man who condemned him to his fate? Would he be graced with a sneering court and a riot of angry citizens or would he be sentenced without a thought, abandoned to loneliness before he was even seen by the crowds of Aesir? Would he be treated as he deserved - like a king? Or would he be the ant under their boots this time?

 

* * *

 

 

Loki knew he would free himself of this cage one day. But in the mean time, he would do what he did best: plot and manipulate. There was so much to think about. How would he keep the Infinity Gauntlet in the right hands? How would he keep himself - and the universe - safe? How would he defeat Thanos? All were things to deliberate while he was stuck here, and he would be for a very long time. Or so Odin supposed.

But Loki had a plan. It was a brittle plan with many assumptions and holes, and he still had to discover how to implement it. The guesswork involved could make or break the plan, depending on whether he was right or wrong. And there was a higher chance that he was wrong in many of the cases. Loki, however, wasn’t a genius for naught, and so he had layered plan over plan over plan, filling every possible crack with his nefarious ideas.

After he had carefully calculated all possibilities, though, Loki had nothing to do but wallow in his grievances. No matter how he tried to keep the thoughts out, they pervaded his mind.

Speculation turned to remorse turned to outrage. How could _he,_ _Loki_ , be so sentimental? He had learned not to depend on emotions long ago; it would only end in hurt. He knew from experience that most emotions wouldn’t help when you were in pain, when you were ridiculed, when you were miserable. There was nothing they could do to change his situation.

He would always be angry and there was nothing sentiment could do to change that.

He would always be agonized and there was no way his disposition could control that.

He would always be alone and there was nothing softheartedness could do about that.

And happiness, happiness was a curse: it was like money; it was something all strived for and something so few had, but when it was attained, the light and the pleasure were so fleeting, and the loss was that much more devastating. He did not want to experience that downfall again. Not after the void. He had hit his rock bottom, he thought, but then he kept falling. There was no up for him, just an endless abyss waiting to swallow him whole. He could have cried from the abuse of it all.

But crying did not stop his taunters from laughing at him or his captors from torturing him, so what was its use? He used to cry when he was called a cowardly frost giant or a runt of a boy. That just spurred them on, though. Why should he cry, he had thought, when he could just become angry, and with that anger he could _do something._ He could fight back, he could destroy, he could show them all that he was not a━

_Monster..._

He was, though, and he knew it. He had denied it all his life, but he wasn’t called the God of Lies for no reason.

And who better could the God of Lies lie to than himself? He now knew, though, that there was no denying it.

Everyone was right; he was a liar before he could speak, and he was a monster before he could breathe.

So what was wrong with him, then?

Why did his heart clench at the thought of Asgard’s fall, and why did he still long for his surrogate mother?

Was that what a monster was, then? Something that longed for everything it couldn’t have until it drove itself mad with want?

Were all Jotnar like this?

Of course they were. Jotnar were depraved creatures, greedy and power mad and angry. They didn’t care for one another, only themselves, and they valued only strength. A runt was a thing to be shunned, just as any other weakling would be. If they couldn’t destroy, if they couldn’t fight, what were they worth to Jotnar? He knew he wasn’t anything. Even among monsters, they recognized his depraved soul and threw him out. After all, what was a magician’s place in a land full of warriors?

In that regard, they were quite similar to Asgard. But the likeness ended there. Aesir didn’t sack villages of races weaker than them, rape the survivors, or eat the children, as a Jotun was wont to do. They weren’t like those brutal berserkers. They weren’t like him.

So really, why did he even bother trying to be a hero? He was just a bilgesnipe trying to pass as a lion, a king.

What would Frigga say to that, though?

 

“Loki,” she said. Loki whipped around to see the illusion of his m - Frigga.

He blinked away the tears of joy that his treacherous eyes produced. There was no room for joy here.

“My queen,” he said.

Frigga frowned. “In all your long life, you have never addressed me so.”

“Forgive me,” Loki bowed. “How would you like to be addressed, your majesty?”

“I would love for you to call me what you once did so willingly: your mother.”

Loki smirked, not at all sharp, but rather like a man on death row, telling his last joke, “But do you recall, your majesty? I am not your son.”

Frigga narrowed her eyes, glaring disapprovingly at her boy. “I recall nursing you as a babe, catching you when you stumbled as you learned to walk, sitting beside your bed when you were sick, and smiling with you in awe when you conjured your first embers. If that doesn’t make you my son, then I don’t know how any mother can claim relation to her son.”

Loki looked away guiltily, not wishing to hurt Frigga, but disputing the thought in his head.

“But come, let us not speak of such matters, as we both can be stubborn as bulls when our beliefs are refuted. Now, tell me if the guards are treating you well. Are you eating enough? And do you need anything?”

“The guards treat me well, your majesty,” Frigga once again frowned, but Loki ignored it this time. “Like a prince, almost.”

“Of course they would treat you that way; your titles have not been revoked, regardless of what Odin may have called you at the trial.”

It was Loki’s turn to frown. Why would Odin do, or not do, what was expected of him? He was king and could do as he pleased, so why not take all Loki had left to tie him to Asgard?

Frigga smiled warmly, “Though I am glad to hear that they are not taking their anger out on you. They would face my wrath as well as the wrath of your fa - Odin.

“Now, you haven’t told me if there’s anything that can ease your long stay here.”

Loki thought for a moment. “Books,” he said. “I could do with books. I _would_ summon them myself, but my magic will only function inside this cage at the moment.”

Frigga nodded. “That is something I can provide.”

Frigga stayed for a while longer, chatting with Loki about numerous things, from magical theory to children’s myths. There was a particularly interesting one Frigga said she would supply in book form. Their conversation strayed to the realms and their goings about, but never once did either mention Midgard or Jotunheim. It was too soon for Loki to speak of that.

Eventually, however, the topic commandeered their conversation. It had started out with a simple comment about a story Loki had read as a child. It was about a heroic áss who defeated a monstrous Jotun who was eating the children in the village. It didn’t make much sense because what would a Jotun even be doing there?

Still, when it was mentioned, Loki froze. His hands, which were at his sides, flexed and then clenched.

“Loki,” said Frigga, squeezing his arm. “What’s wrong?”

“You knew... you knew that the Jotnar are monsters... You knew, and yet you took me in and raised me as one of your sons... why?” Loki squeezed his eyes shut, fearing the answer to his question.

Frigga sighed. “I knew we should have done something about the prejudice that runs through Asgard. This has been ingrained into your subconscious, I’m sure, but I hope to convince you of its falsity.

“My son, if I thought the Jotnar were monsters, I still would have cared for you because no one is born bad; you were not born bad. But as it is, the Jotnar are not monsters. The whisperings you heard as a child by other ignorant children were just that: rumors. Parents would tell their children perfidious lies to scare them into doing their chores and the like, and these lies were born of hatred for a race that we fought against. In war, either side will tell tales about the other to fuel the fight. And remember, history is written by the victors. Imagine what the Aesir would be if Jotunheim had won the war.”

Loki ran a hand through his hair, making it even messier than before. “But I _am_ bad. I’ve proven that time and time again! I’m just like them and they’re... we’re monsters━”

A sharp, stinging pain flared in his cheek.

Did - ? She just slapped him!

“ _Do not ever call yourself a monster!_ You most certainly are not. People can do bad things. That does not make them bad. And doing something good does not make you good. You see the world in black and white, my son. But it’s not so simple; there is good and bad in the world, but there are no good or bad people.”

“But then... what about Thor? What about the heroes of Midgard? Are they not good? They fight the evil, right?” Loki said.

“They fight to save people. It is not who they’re fighting, but who they’re protecting. They fight to protect the innocent; they do good. That doesn’t mean they are good. If something happened to change their points of view - to make them do bad things, they still wouldn’t be bad. They would do bad things, but they wouldn’t be bad. They’re still redeemable and they always will be. And if they are redeemable, there is a chance yet,” Frigga said, stroking his hair lovingly as - as a mother would.

“But what if there is someone so bad - forgive me, someone who does such bad things that he or she cannot be forgiven or redeemed?”

Frigga sighed. “If this person refuses to be redeemed, or keeps doing bad things, no matter what anyone says, then it is up to those around the person to do good and stop him or her.”

“The - the people who could do good, who always do good aren’t able to fight this person. What happens then?” Loki felt he was starting to sound like a child.

“Then it is time for the people who do not believe in themselves, those who think they are bad,” she looked intently at Loki, “to learn to conquer their insecurities and fight the person. After all, when all the good in the realms sits idly and twiddles its thumbs, what is left to fight the bad?”

 

 


	2. Mother (I)

_But it didn’t progress terribly for him afterwards. He mourned and displayed a solemn disposition for a while, but eventually, he grew to like his foster family._

_Hero grew as many boys did, playing with the son of the people who took him in, teasing his foster sister, and being mischievous in any possible manner. It wasn’t long before he had matured to his prime and set off, ready to challenge the world._

_He left his family with a tearful goodbye and sagely words of caution from his surrogate father. It was a long time before he would discover that his kindred had been slaughtered by bandits only hours after he had gone._

 

* * *

 

“Your highness,” he said, addressing the woman who raised him. “I would offer you a seat and a drink, but as it is, I seem to be unable to do both.”

Frigga smiled, raising her hand to her boy’s cheek, yet not quite touching it. There would be nothing for him to feel anyway; she was an illusion.

“My son,” she said, hesitating when he flinched. “I do not need your propriety. I just want to speak with you.”

Loki smirked, falling into the old routine. “Ah, yes. You’ve come to appeal to my humanity yet again.”

Frigga sighed. “Must we do this every time? We’ve already established that these conversations are naught more than talks.”

Loki paused for a moment. “Very well. We _have_ established what you come here for. Why, I know not, but nevertheless, you seem to enjoy my presence.”

Loki could see frustration welling up in Frigga, but he bit down the guilt that burned under his skin.

“Loki, I’ve already told you countless times:  I am here because no matter how hard you hurt me and no matter what crimes you commit, I will never stop being your mother.”

It was these moments that Loki almost came to regret his plans, his manipulations, and his betrayal. But there was nothing he could do to change that, and there was no point on dwelling in the past. It was easier said than done, however.

“You know as well as I do that I have done terrible things and deserve this punishment - I deserve never to see you again.”

“But do I deserve to live an eternity without both of my sons?” Frigga asked. “What have I done to deserve that?”

“You took the monster in. You of all people know that I would have been better off dying on that frozen tundra.”

Of course, then Frigga decided to slap him. Again. It shouldn’t have been tangible, but Frigga wanted to make a point. They could only manifest their physical touch by excerpting more magic than was comfortable, and they could only hold it for so long. She didn’t need it for that long.

Loki’s head snapped to the side and he stared at the wall he now faced. “You know, I would really appreciate it if you would stop doing that.”

“Well, I would appreciate it if you would stop speaking so, but we do not seem to be eager to please one another, do we? Neither of us will get what we want so long as you are convinced that... that you deserve to die.”

“I do, though,” he said, because he did, he did, _he did._ After what he did to Midgard, after what he did to his not-mother, he deserved nothing more than death. How could he dare do the things that he did without fearing the consequences.

He never did think about the consequences until it was too late. He rushed into his plans head on with a recklessness and dullness only Thor could possess. It seemed he was more like the golden prince than anyone had expected.

“Loki, what happened? What convinced you of this?”

Loki desperately wanted to spill all of his secrets to her, but he knew that there were some things that she would just not keep from the Allfather, and the threat of Thanos was one of them.

“I was... enlightened during my fall through the void and my imprisonment with the Chitauri,” he mumbled.

Frigga frowned. “Imprisonment? What do you mean?”

And there went his earlier plan not to tell her anything. He was so slow sometimes. It seemed he could never be silver tongued around his - Frigga. “I meant nothing by it, it was a slip of tongue. I meant to say that I was enlightened during my stay with the Chitauri.”

But Frigga wasn’t having it. She shook her head and inquired, “What happened to you?! Tell me, Loki. I promise, _I promise_ I will keep it in confidence.”

Loki was tempted. He was sorely tempted to give away his closely guarded secret, to show his weakness to the one person who would understand. But he couldn’t compromise his plans. And if he told her that he was not the leader of the Chitauri, she would question who was. Eventually she would find out it was Thanos, and yes, she _would_ tell Odin. And he didn’t want Odin to know. He wanted to defeat Thanos. If he did so, his so called father would see just what he had lost when he sentenced Loki to death on the Bifrost.

“...There is nothing to say,” Loki said. “Nothing happened - I was just given a purpose. It was a brilliant idea.”

Frigga narrowed her eyes. “Then why do you call yourself a monster? If that were true, you wouldn’t regret your actions, let alone hate yourself for them.”

He hadn’t meant to show that he regretted his actions. He hadn’t meant her to realise this. It was an act, one he had so beautifully played until now, one that would make her hate him. And why? Because she could hurt him. And he could hurt her. He had to keep her at arms length so neither of them had to feel that pain.  

“Because I am one! Don’t you understand? I’ve done what I’ve done, and I don’t feel any guilt for it. And why? Because I am a monster - a Jotun. Evil is ingrained in my bones. You may believe there could be some good in the barbaric creatures, but I know this to be false. Truly, they are bad through and through. Maybe they were not originally, but somehow, in their long cycle of existence, cruelty and malice has been weaved into their - our - spirits,” Loki fumed. How could she not see this?

“You... do you truly believe that?” the queen asked. “Do you truly believe that the Jotnar are all evil?”

Loki scowled. “How can I not? All the horror stories I have heard about them do not leave much room for any positive thought.”

“Loki,” Frigga said. “You must know that no race is truly savage. They may be misunderstood, but they are not beasts.”

“Misunderstood?” Loki scoffed.

“Yes, my son. They are misunderstood because no one will take the time to learn about their culture and way of life. The only information we have about them are the stories told by parents to scare their children.”

“Yes,” Loki said. “And thus I have proved those stories right. I _am_ the monster parents tell their children about at night.”

“Loki━”

“No!” he cut her off. “I don’t want to hear any of the righteous drivel you use to try to make me _feel better_! There is nothing - NOTHING - that will sway my opinion!”

Frigga just looked at him sadly. He didn’t know what was running through her head, but he knew that it wouldn’t be condemning him. She could never be convinced to let go of him.

“Transform,” she said.

Loki blanched. “What did you say?”

Frigga squared her shoulders and stared determinedly at him. “I said, ‘transform’. Go back to your natural state.”

“No.”

“Loki, please. I only want you to see━”

“I WILL NOT! Do not make me do this. There is nothing I want less than to see my ugly blue flesh and face the reality - that no matter what I do, nothing will measure up to Thor because I am just a disgusting, depraved monster!”

 

* * *

 

Frigga didn’t visit Loki for quite a while after his outburst, and in that time, Loki returned to studying the books she’d sent down with the guards.  He hadn’t told Frigga why he requested certain books, ancient tomes of rumored artifacts and the like.

He flipped through book after book, searching for something, anything, that might give him an advantage against Thanos. But it was all for naught. Loki didn’t give up, but he did decide to take a break. One could only stand so much research, after all.

He turned to the other books his moth - Frigga had brought him. There were a few on magical theory, a few on the politics of the realms, and a few Frigga might have thought he would seek comfort from: his old childhood novels. One told of the great and mighty warrior who slayed the nasty bilgesnipe, and he moved away from it quickly. He didn’t want to read about those.

Strangely enough, there never seemed to be a story about sorcerers; the stories they were in portrayed them as antagonists. The closest it got was one legend about a boy with great magical ability he couldn’t control was tricked by a woman, who slaughtered everyone he ever loved, into giving her a magical amulet. It was called _The Tale of the Amulet of Power_.

Loki dismissed that too. He didn’t need to read any of that childish nonsense. He had little time to do this research.

He resolved to finish his short break and get back to his studies. He had a deadline, and he couldn’t miss it.

It wouldn’t take long for his thoughts to consume him again, though. It was hard to sit in a cell day in and day out, reading to bide his time. It was ironic that he could sit in the library for days on end, missing meals and not resting, but now, he could barely spend an hour reading before his mind would stray to darker paths.

Today seemed to be one of his good days. Normally, when it became too much, he would beat the walls and floor until he bled and scream relentlessly - under the guise of an illusion, of course - until he collapsed from exhaustion. However, today, only distant memories plagued him today. He could handle the bittersweet childhood memories. It was the reminders of Thanos, his current situation, and all of the dark times in his life that drove him over the edge.

He thought of Frigga, her warmth, her loving care and her dedication, and he wondered if should not just let her in after all. What would she think if he showed her his true self, the one he hid behind this mask and the lies? Would she hold true to her word and love him still? Or would she abandon the monster?

He speculated about her compassion. She still greeted him with a warm smile that filled him with inexplicable joy. He remembered when he was a boy, whenever he would come back from adventures with Thor, he would slink away to find her while Thor basked in his glory and left Loki in the shadows. She would always welcome him into her chambers happily, tell him how proud she was, and eat a meal with him, squeezing all the juicy details about the adventure out of him before she heard Thor’s version.

When he was hurt, she would care for him. When he was sad, she would comfort him. When he was angry, she would calm him. She was so loving his entire life, so was he justified in pushing her away?

But then he thought about more recent events. When he found out he was a Jotun, his whole life came crashing down. She had lied to him his entire life. She had betrayed him, so it was only fitting that he return the favor.   
‘An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, Loki,’ she would say. But he thought that an eye for an eye first made the whole world one eyed, and one eyed people in the realms seemed to be rather fortunate. Or at least that was the case for Odin and Fury.

Odin would tell her to hate him. She never listened to him when it concerned her sons and what she thought was right for them, though. So maybe she didn’t deserve this treatment.

But were all of those times just another part of her facade? Or did she mean everything she said?


End file.
